When Farrah walked by to grab more drinks, I pulled her onto my lap.

“I love you, Farrah,” I told her dreamily.

“Ha! Okay, drunky,” she answered back, patting me on the head.

“I’m not drunk.” I gave her a squeeze, “I’m just happy I have a friend like you, who throws me awesome birthday parties.”

Her eyes widened and her head snapped toward me.

“It’s your birthday?” she asked me in confusion, and I couldn’t help but laugh at how she wrinkled her nose.

“Yup!” I took a drink of the screwdriver she’d mixed for me. “Seventeen. Woo fucking hoo.”

From the side of the couch I heard someone mumble, “Holy fuck. She doesn’t look seventeen,” and then what sounded like a thump before Michael warned, “Hands off, she’s Grease’s.”

I ignored them both, my eyes still on Farrah.

“When’s your birthday?” I asked her, trying to get her attention away from where Echo was standing across the room.

They’d been eyeballing each other the entire night, but I knew how Farrah felt about bikers. After watching one after another come into her mom’s life—and bedroom—she had little respect for them. I knew she wanted a normal guy with a normal family, at least in her head. It seemed her hormones wanted something entirely different.

“Earth to Farrah!” I called, my voice rising above the music.

“Oh, what? Sorry. It was last month,” she answered distractedly, her eyes darting between me and Echo.

“Dang. You’re already seventeen?”

“No, I just turned sixteen,” she told me with a shrug, “I got moved up a grade.”

Michael stood up, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, and she immediately slid off my lap and into his vacant seat. I couldn’t help but tease her about her age as she eyeballed Echo who was flirting with some girl in the kitchen. He was way too old for her, but it’s not like I could bitch at her about it. I didn’t think I had any room to judge, especially when the front door slammed open and Asa stood in the doorway.

I wasn’t surprised when he showed up—my last comment to him had been the equivalent of waving a red scarf in front of a bull. I just hadn’t been sure if he’d cared enough to take the bait.

“Get the fuck outta my house!” he roared, throwing his helmet across the room, barely missing some guy who had passed out sitting on the floor.

Most of the people shot out the front door, and someone actually grabbed the passed out guy and dragged him out. Within seconds, the only people left in the house with us were Farrah, Michael, and Echo. Farrah had reached for me when Asa started yelling, and by the way her nails were digging into my thigh, she was scared out of her mind.

“It’s fine, Farrah,” I told her, never taking my eyes off Asa. “He’s just pissed he wasn’t invited.”

I stood up and started picking up beer cans and garbage as everyone looked at me in shock. I wasn’t sure if they expected me to be scared, or if they themselves weren’t sure what to do, because no one moved.

“Everybody out,” Asa rumbled again, his voice lower but no less menacing.

Farrah hopped off the couch and looked around her as if she wasn’t sure what to do. I recognized the look of panic in her eyes, and I instantly felt like shit that I’d put her in the middle of our drama. At the very least, it had to be really uncomfortable for everyone.

“Hey, guys,” I looked at Michael and Echo with weary eyes, my fight pretty much gone, “can one of you drive Farrah home?”

Echo offered to drive her, and I almost opened my mouth to argue, but one look at Asa had me shutting it again. I knew that Echo wouldn’t let anything happen to Farrah, and I had to let that be enough. Asa wasn’t going to wait much longer to have it out with me and they needed to get out of the apartment.

It was strange, but at no time was I afraid that Asa would physically hurt me. He’d protected me in so many other important instances that I couldn’t even imagine him putting his hands on me in anger. However, words? He could definitely cut me with those.

Chapter 36

Callie

Once Farrah and the guys had left, it was completely silent in the apartment. Asa stood watching me as I cleaned up the beer bottles and garbage, but he didn’t speak. I wasn’t sure what to say to him, and I felt like anything I did say would be like poking a rabid dog—so I kept quiet. I swept and dusted and wiped down every surface I could until both the kitchen and the living room were spotless, but still, he said nothing.

When I was finally finished and putting the broom away, I heard him take a step behind me, so I spun toward him. He was standing away from the wall and had raised his arms until his hands were entwined behind his head, his elbows pointed toward the ceiling. I watched his biceps flex as he pushed his head back against his hands and my mouth went dry.

“What are you doing here?” I asked quietly, running my tongue between my lips and braces where they’d stuck together. “I thought you were busy this weekend.”

“You knew I’d be here.” He scowled at me, “You practically begged me to come.”

I almost gasped in outrage but took a deep breath in through my nose instead. I wasn’t going to turn into some screaming psycho, even if that’s exactly what I wanted to do.

“I told you not to bother,” I sneered back, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Yeah, you did. What the fuck was that about?”